Lady Louisa's Christmas Knight Read Online Free

last drop.
    ***
    â€œWhy would Sir Joseph Carrington be in need of a wife?” While she spoke, Louisa accepted a mug of mulled wine from one of the footmen circulating around the ballroom. There were little bits of cinnamon floating on top, a display of holiday extravagance on the part of the family hosting the hunt ball. Mistletoe hung in the door arches, and wreathes festooned the doors. The fragrances of evergreen and beeswax lurked under the scent of too many bodies that hadn’t bathed since the morning’s ride.
    Eve waved the footman away without taking any wine for herself, though Jenny was too polite to decline.
    â€œMaybe Sir Joseph seeks a wife because he has children,” Jenny volunteered. “Little girls need a mother.”
    â€œMaybe because he’s lonely,” Eve suggested. “He’s a comely man. He can’t be much more than thirty, and Maggie says raising swine is quite profitable. He doesn’t seem inclined to the usual male vices, so why not have a wife?”
    Louisa sipped her wine, recalling Sir Joseph at Sunday services with the two little minxes who called him Papa. “You think he’s comely?”
    Eve Windham, the youngest of the ducal siblings, rarely ventured an opinion about any member of the male gender. She collected hopefuls and followers and even proposals with blithe good cheer, but never gave a hint her heart was engaged by any of them.
    Eve’s gaze traveled across the ballroom, to where Sir Joseph was in conversation with the plump, pale Lady Horton. The woman’s two eldest daughters flanked him—penned him in like a pair of curious heifers would corner a new bull calf.
    â€œI like a man who isn’t silly,” Eve said. “I like a man who will be able to provide for me and mine; I like that he’s a papa—though he’ll want sons to pass along all that wealth to—and a pair of broad shoulders on a fellow doesn’t exactly offend, either.”
    Jenny’s blond brows rose. “From you, Eve, that’s a ringing endorsement. Were he not a mere knight, I’d be passing your notice along to Mama.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter that he’s a mere knight,” Eve said, though her rebuke was mild. “Is the libation any good?”
    Louisa wrinkled her nose. “Too sweet. Some people must use the holidays to inform all and sundry of their wealth.”
    â€œYou’re cross tonight,” Jenny said. “I know something to cheer you up.”
    Eve’s lips quirked, and the look that passed between Louisa’s sisters was conspiratorial and mischievous. Eve and Jenny shared more than blond beauty, though Jenny was willowy and Eve was a smaller, curvier package. Louisa’s remaining unmarried sisters both had a sort of gentleness to them, a warmth of spirit toward all in their ambit that Louisa lacked.
    And envied, truth be known.
    â€œI can use cheering up,” Louisa said, picking up the thread of the conversion. “My evening starts out promenading with Sir Joseph, and my dance card is empty thereafter. Sindal will no doubt take pity on me, but he fairly heaves one off the dance floor in an effort to return to dear Sophie’s side.”
    â€œDeene would dance with us were he not in mourning,” Eve observed.
    â€œBut he is in mourning.” Which was a shame. The Marquis of Deene was tall enough, a fine-looking fellow, and more family friend than anything else, which meant for Louisa’s purposes he was safe.
    â€œLord Lionel Honiton is not in mourning,” Jenny said, “and he’s just now coming down the steps.”
    Hence the knowing sororal glances. Louisa did not look up as she set aside her glass of too-sweet, lukewarm wine punch. “He declined to ride today. I wasn’t sure he was coming.”
    Nor had she missed him, though that hardly need be said.
    â€œToo busy choosing his attire for the evening,” Eve replied.